


You Gotta Know, For You, I'll Fight

by childofhebe



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Crime Scenes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex, Kidnapping, Multi, Physical Abuse, Post-Canon, Smoking, not really but yeah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:42:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29702154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childofhebe/pseuds/childofhebe
Summary: "Life was finally good.As far as Byakuya was concerned, anyway."After Byakuya left the Future Foundation with Makoto, they both expected their lives to calm down.But after a stupid fight spins into a horrible one, an even more terrible event tears them apart. Now, Byakuya has to race against the time to save his fiance's life.Meanwhile, Makoto has to survive in a situation that was meant to be someone else's death sentence.
Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Naegi Komaru, Kirigiri Kyoko & Naegi Makoto, Kirigiri Kyouko & Togami Byakuya, Naegi Makoto/Togami Byakuya
Comments: 12
Kudos: 32





	1. Let’s Not Go to Bed Angry

**Author's Note:**

> Guess what!  
> Naegami brainrot
> 
> This fanfic has been in my head for AGES. Until we decided with, now my ex-girlfriend, to turn it into an RP. It helped me to actually write this thing, and I am using the RP itself as a reference on many occasions, but I also changed some things to more fit this storytelling format. Updates won't be that regular as the Paper-Thin Fate has, since I mostly work on the rewriting when I need to relax, but I definitely can promise you one hell of a rollercoaster! :D
> 
> I actually don't think anything in this work is OOC since we are both filthy kinnies, but please be willing to overlook any projecting.
> 
> With that said, I would actually like to dedicate this work to my ex-girlfriend.  
> You know how dear you were to my heart. You still are. But I have no choice but to respect your choices. If you were serious about the whole "staying close" thing, I am willing. I just need the time to heal my heart. And I think you do too because I don't have a shard of doubt about your feelings being sincere this whole time. Thank you for so many memories. The time with you was actually one of the brightest in my life. You taught me many things, and I shall never forget them. Even with my spaghetti strainer of a brain.

Life was finally good.

As far as Byakuya was concerned, anyway. The rebuilding of the world after the Remnants of Despair were rehabilitated was tough and long and it still wasn't quite done. People needed therapy, finances, support, food… anything you could think of. Future Foundation grew, especially after Towa city was cleared and joined forces with them, and when Byakuya recovered the lost Togami Corporation resources and fused them into the working system of FF. Many people agreed that in the ruined world… Power wasn't really a relevant commodity. 

It made leaving the FF with Makoto easier. 

The former Lucky Student wasn't himself, especially after the fiasco of the Future Foundation killing game. They were dating pretty much on and off (more like a very long confusion phase about what they were because Byakuya himself used to be a blockhead about his own feelings) ever since they slept together during their first killing game, and by the time they were rescuing their upperclassmen from the claws of despair, they were pretty much constants in each other's lives. Makoto got offered a job as the principal of the new Hope's Peak - rebuilt and reformed. He took it, but Byakuya even then knew he did it from the obligation. The Ultimate Hope couldn't back down from that. 

A few years later, Makoto suddenly resigned, leaving his job to none other than Hajime Hinata, and told Byakuya that he is leaving the Future Foundation. He didn't ask him to do the same.

Byakuya thought the work was getting way too underwhelming anyway.

So they opened a coffee shop in the restored part of the town where Hope's Peak resigned, and both of them called it the deserved vacation.

“I will miss you in the suit, though,” Byakuya told Makoto back then, and the other laughed, already the color back in his cheeks, after the months of absence.

Byakuya was also happy, in a sense. Makoto has managed to teach him many things over those years, such as how to relax and how to enjoy little things. The feel of Makoto's bed hair on his face in the morning as they sleepily cuddled before getting up, the smell of coffee beans, managing five people that were their part-time workers, instead of the whole company resting on his shoulders - stuff like that. It was nice. Byakuya would have never imagined that the perks which came with being engaged to a plebeian, how his high school self would put it, could be this enjoyable.

And then there were days such as this one - when Byakuya's vacation mode had to step aside.

“I've sent you the copies of the plans into the computer. No, not that one, I am aware that one is lost. You've told me multiple times today. The other one. Make sure the hacking gun is dry before you put it back together. And get some sleep now that your bed isn't underwater.”

Unlike Makoto, Byakuya couldn't fully afford to yield his Future Foundation connections as they left the organization. Asahina, Hagakure, Fukawa, Komaru, and Kirigiri sometimes needed help with paperwork or even concealing some minor scandals (the two idiots of their group were impressive magnets for those), and that's where Byakuya usually stepped in with few phone calls and smoothed out the mess with his influence. Efficiency was an important part of the functioning of the organization that saved lives on a daily basis, wasn't it? Who had time to squabble over stupid things, or to worry about wrong forms submitted? Byakuya was good at persuading people that some things just weren’t worth their time.

_ Also, he liked looking after them. It was like a sometimes needed reality check for him. But he would be caught dead before he ever admitted it to someone. He had a reputation to uphold. _

So when Komaru called him right after breakfast with the news, that Towa city was severely flooded because of the pollution storm that took place that night, and she somehow lost both her men and Fukawa in the evacuation mess, Byakuya spent the whole day on the phone navigating her through the Towa's flooding policies (and developing a major migraine) and getting her to Fukawa and to safety. It wasn't that the girl was a dumbass, but the situation was almost astoundingly ridiculous. When they finally ended, it was evening.

All he wanted right now, as he threw his positively fervid phone onto the kitchen table and took off his glasses to rub at his aching eyes, was to cuddle up with Makoto on a couch while some stupid movie played. His fiance was likely still in the shop downstairs. He should have some time before the other arrived, to put all the papers and manuals away. Not that he would have to keep them a secret from Makoto - he just didn’t want the other to worry too much. Also, he should probably adjust his appearance - after the whole day, his hair was very much out of the place, and his shirt was wrinkled. Somehow unsightly.

Just as he was putting the last manual in the drawer, he heard the door opening. “Byakuya? Are you home?” he heard Makoto call out, and the sound of his bag being let down to the ground. Makoto’s voice was strangely void from any emotion, and he used his name. That was strange. Makoto grew to use many pet names for Byakuya in the last years, which was a little bit annoying sometimes, but Byakuya grew to like it very much.

“Yes, Makoto. I’m here,” he announced himself and sat down on the kitchen chain again. As he heard the other shuffle through the hallway closer, he added: “How was your day?” Maybe Makoto will tell him if something has upset him at work. That was probably it. If he was even upset in the first place, and not just tired.

His Lucky Student came into the view, and Byakuya quickly figured that his suspicion of “something happening” was correct. He was dressed in an oversized shirt just like when he left in the morning, but the little coffee stain at the bottom of his shirt was new. His hair was messy, his eyes tired, and his arms crossed across his chest. When he spoke, his voice came out just as quiet and emotionless as before.

“Well, I was alone during the day. You weren’t picking up your phone, and nothing was done. I was out of milk, the coffee maker was dirty even though it was your turn to clean it and plants almost died. It was a mess and when I needed help, you were not picking up.”

Wait, so this was partly his fault? Damn, that was troublesome. He straightened his spine on the chair. And while he realized he really partly caused all those troubles, he had to address something that wasn’t sitting right with him first.

“What do you mean, you were there alone? Wasn’t Kaede supposed to come in today?” he asked with a frown. He pushed his glasses further up his nose, even though they weren’t really falling. Damned ticks.

Makoto leaned against the doorframe, his tired eyes focused entirely on Byakuya. “Yeah, but she called in sick this morning, and no one else was picking up.” He sighed out a loud, frustrated breath. 

Byakuya suppressed his own frustrated sigh. Makoto kept telling him to be nicer to people, and if the blonde girl really was sick, it couldn’t be helped. But that didn’t make their other workers any less unreliable. “I see.”

“You can’t do this to me, Byakuya.”

“Um, what do you mean by that, pray tell?” Byakuya took on the defensive stand just as easily as breathing, because while he knew that he really forgot to do all of those things, why did Makoto phrase it in that way? Those words usually carried some more meaning behind them, and Byakuya didn’t like that implication.

Makoto sagged a little, closing his eyes and his hand going into his messy hair. Byakuya ached a little, with the need to embrace his exhausted fiance and pet that hair himself, but he knew Makoto wouldn’t let him if he was so obviously mad at him. When he looked at Byakuya again, there was something rather unfamiliar burning behind those eyes.

“When I tell you that I need you to do something, please do it. I was about to lose my fucking mind today! And for the love of God, please, pick up your goddamn phone!”

The mostly dulled-down pain in his head picked up on the intensity when Makoto raised his voice. That was annoying, but it didn’t irk Byakuya that much as the swear and the raised voice did. Makoto was swearing and shouting very rarely, such as only when he was sentenced to death. But this situation quite didn’t measure up to that awful scenario. Never fucking again.

Byakuya frowned, keeping his posture taunt. Maybe he should say something as a decoy to calm Makoto down. To make him worry about his sister in a state like this... No, that didn’t sound right. Maybe some boiled-down version of it, then? 

“I was on the phone the whole day, that’s why I couldn’t pick up. An emergency. That’s all.”

“What kind of an emergency? What if I had an emergency too? Byakuya you just can’t do this to me, okay? Look I know you think of it differently than I do, but I am working really hard, I really am, but sometimes I need help!” 

Makoto’s voice sounded more and more desperate to Byakuya’s ears, and it very much caused him to feel confused, and overall bad. Aside from the fact that his cloying tactic was failing, he really didn’t like to be shouted at. Especially by Makoto. And about things, he was aware of. He knew how much Makoto adored the shop, and he shared that sentiment most of the time. He did his best to help Makoto out even in things outside of his expertise, and when he couldn’t, Makoto was always fine with him dropping out to help Asahina or anyone else through the phone. So what made him snap so much today? Byakuya was very confused and uncomfortable in this situation. He stood up from the chair and crossed his arms across his chest, to somehow keep his dignity intact on the outside.

“I can’t tell you unless you calm down, Makoto.”

Makoto’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Unless I calm down?! That’s really all you’re going to say to me? That I need to calm down?” A broken laugh follows the shout, and Byakuya’s heart constricts a little at that.

“Just talk to me for once Byakuya, I am tired of this!”

The bulge in Byakuya's throat was really growing under the heated shower Makoto was pouring at him. The bulge that always came when he was being scolded as a child. It clouded his crystal clear judgment, constricted his breathing, and that worsened the pounding in his temples. He pushed up his glasses again, trying to ignore the way his fingers ever so subtly shook.

“I am talking to you, Makoto, if you haven’t noticed,” he said a bit more sharply than intended. Makoto noticeably winced and took a step back. “But you are not making any sense. I told you it was an emergency, and it really prevented me from being of help to you. If you had such big-scale issues, why didn’t you just close up earlier to resolve them? That would’ve been the logical course of action.”

The silence that occurred after was suffocating. Makoto was shaking and his fists were clenched. When he moved, it was so fast Byakuya didn’t even register it.

His head got displaced to the side with the force of Makoto’s slap. His migraine didn’t like that. Byakuya blinked, puzzled for a moment, and put his ice-cold hand over his burning cheek. The sudden temperature shock kept him grounded. He heard Makoto shout something in his face, but he couldn’t quite make out what it was. When was the last time someone slapped him? Oh, that’s right, it was Asahina. Before Oogami’s suicide. Literal ages ago. 

He took a step back, still puzzled out of his right mind, and realized that there was only one reasonable solution to this predicament. They both needed to cool down. Because this shouting contest led absolutely nowhere.

“I- I see how it is.”

Byakuya succeeded at keeping his voice steady, the stammer be damned. His legs seemed to work again, so he put them to use and walked around Makoto to the kitchen doorway, his hand still freezing the red skin on his cheek. “I’ll go for a smoke.” 

He really couldn’t bring himself to say anything else. He heard Makoto’s voice call out his name, but he couldn’t tell if it was angry or not. He ignored it, grabbed his coat and keys, and slipped out of their apartment.

He lit the cigarette as soon as he stepped out of the building, and he leaned on the concrete wall. The evening was cold, and the air was annoyingly biting at his red cheek. This was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Byakuya really didn’t have the slightest idea what made Makoto snap like that since Byakuya’s actions (or rather, the things he didn’t do) weren’t enough of a deal to provoke this. But no matter how much he was thinking it over, the consequences were still there, and they had to deal with it.

First, he had to cool down and give Makoto enough time to do the same. Then, he would return, and they could discuss the situation in a civil way. Maybe Byakuya could have Makoto call Komaru, that always cheered his fiance up. That sounded like a reasonable plan. For now… he should figure out what he will be doing in the meantime. He didn’t take his wallet, so picking up some snacks for later to better up the mood was out of the question. But there was always Kirigiri, living a few blocks from them. It was a long time since he had a smoke with her. He could pay her a quick visit. She could even help him, analyze their fight and help him find the cause of Makoto’s outburst. Even if she said it was his fault, he probably deserved to hear it.

\---

Makoto’s breaths were coming out fast and short. He was surprised by himself. He had actually never hit Byakuya, nor shouted at him. This was, by far, the worst argument they ever had. But he was just so tired and stressed, and he needed to get that out, and the lack of response from his fiance drove him crazy way too quickly. Even though he was used to Byakuya’s curt manner of speech in tight situations. 

It was the last thing Byakuya said that really drove him over the edge. His hand reacted faster than his brain could, and then, as he shouted: “You idiot!” in Byakuya’s face, he took in Byakuya’s reaction - and the weight of what he just did slowly started to hit him. He took a step back, letting his hand fall down. His fingers were stinging. Byakuya started to walk away, mumbling about the smoke, and Makoto’s eyes were suddenly full of hot tears.

He turned around. “Byakuya, I am so so-” he starts to move, but his legs are frozen, his voice choking up in his throat, and then he hears the apartment door closing. He is still frozen for a few minutes, and then he numbly moves to the couch, sits down, pulls his knees to his chest, and breaks down into tears.

He needed to apologize to Byakuya as soon as possible. Well, get his breathing and sobbing under control first. Byakuya should be back soon, he had said he was going out only for a smoke, right?

After fifteen minutes (way more than it takes to smoke one cigarette), Makoto tried calling Byakuya's phone. It started buzzing on a kitchen table. Great. Makoto sighed, finally not out of frustration - this time, there was a concern. 

He forced his body to move. He peeked out of the window, but he didn't see Byakuya under their building anywhere - he probably also went for a walk. The cold wind was harsher than it should be this time of a year, so Makoto just signed again, closed the window, and pulled the curtains closed. He needed to distract himself a little. The silence was driving him crazy.

He plopped back on the couch and turned the TV on, immediately tuning out the contents of some stupid comedy show that was on. The guilt was only sinking in deeper and deeper. He slapped Byakuya. It was horrible. Was there even an excuse? His heart was breaking at the thought that his fiance might not forgive him for this. But surely… He would, right? Makoto sniffled and buried his head in his knees again.

Until… He heard the door opening. He perked his head up, and called out: "Byakuya? Love?" 

The silence that was his only answer felt off. Makoto couldn't tell exactly what was wrong, but he slowly got up. Whoever entered the apartment, wasn't Byakuya. They were too quiet for that. Byakuya always used to set his keys loudly on the shelf right after he entered the apartment, and now Makoto has heard no such sound. It was also impossible for Byakuya to just be distracted by his phone (and not have set his keys down yet), because his phone was sure as hell in the kitchen.

Makoto grabbed the first thing he could, one of Byakuya's bottles of wine the latter was planning to move from the living room table into the proper shelf today (another thing he apparently didn't do), and called out: "Who is there?"

"You're very observant…" a woman's voice answered him, and he could feel the hair on his nape stand up. Oh, this wasn't good.

The figure stepped out from behind the coat rack, and the first thing Makoto noticed about her was a gleaming gun aimed at his head. She was dressed all in black, the hood pulled deep into her face, and the portion Makoto could see was covered by a black face mask. Only one blond stream of hair escaped the hood.

"...Makoto Naegi," she finished dramatically, but to Makoto's dismay, it had the desired effect on him. He took a step back, trying to regulate his breathing, and navigate his wild thoughts. There was a gun aimed at his face! There was an armed woman in their apartment! The woman who knew who he was, and very likely came here for him… or Byakuya. Makoto wasn't sure which one of those possibilities was worse. 

"What do you want from me?" He asked, his voice surprisingly calm, considering how very scared he felt on the inside. 

"Now now," she spoke as if she were taming a skittish horse. But to Makoto, it didn't feel calm. More like threatening with a gun. Oh.

“Don't move. I would hate to harm you,” she purred, the face mask undoubtedly hiding a satisfied smile, and took a step forward. “You will come with me, it's as easy as that.”

Makoto couldn’t remember the last time his throat was this much constricted with fear. Well, he could, but he hoped those things were all behind him. He slowly inched behind, trying to keep his face steady, and his determination going. It couldn’t be that difficult, now could it? He just needed to distract her and scram. His luck would save him. Hopefully.

“I am not going anywhere,” he said quietly. His voice didn’t betray him and wasn’t shaking, for once. He gripped the wine bottle in his hand and swiftly threw it in the lady’s direction.

Unfortunately, his luck didn’t save him. Perhaps his fingers were shaking too much, because the bottle flew across the room, missing the lady, and shattering against the table instead, spilling red wine everywhere. Makoto quietly swore under his breath, and the lady started to laugh.

“And you’re the one they call the Lucky Student?” she asked, taunting him. “You will come with me, sweetheart. If I have to hurt you in the process, that’s fine,” she must have noticed his inching backward, because she suddenly took off, with the gun still aimed at his chest, trying to back him into the corner.

Makoto couldn’t let the panic consume him. He just had to stall her. Eventually, Byakuya will come home, and they will deal with this together. Right? Until then, he can’t give up, on anything. He also takes off, jumping closer to the woman, catching her hand with a gun swiftly, and pushing it up, above his head. He was tiny, but the tiny person makes the toughest target, and while pushing like this, he might actually overpower her. The surprise he glimpsed in her eyes (he could finally see them, now that he was closer) didn’t last, because the next thing he knew, she kicked him with her long leg into the knee. The pain ransacked through his whole leg, and he slipped on the spilled wine, slamming his head against the table and falling to the ground. He heard the gun clatter down too, but his vision was starred, and he whined.

“Little shit,” the woman spat venomously, and Makoto got up on his elbows, trying to crawl away from her. His fingers painfully curled around the piece of glass from the bottle, and he threw it against her.

She grunted, as it hit her shoulder, and tore a little hole in her hoodie, but it probably didn’t injure her. Yeah, that sounded just right, considering the way she threw herself at him, straddling him and mercilessly fast closing her hands around his throat. 

“You aren’t getting away from me,” she told him coldly and Makoto gasped as she squeezed his throat, cutting him off the precious air.

In a situation like this, Kyoko’s voice suddenly sounded in Makoto’s head.  _ Evidence. That is the most important thing. Even the least careless criminals leave it because it is left behind by a victim themselves. _

That was right. He can’t give up. And even if his body would, he had to believe in his friends. His best friend, an Ultimate Detective, and his fiance… Oh, Byakuya. 

His arms were clawing at her, trying to tear something from her and free himself, his nails already causing her face to bleed. That was good. But a piece of clothing or even a hair would be even better. As his vision was slowly blacking out, he remembered the strand of hair. He grabbed it and  _ yanked _ , making her howl in pain. He let the hair fly past the couch, hoping she wouldn’t think to search for it. But Kyoko would. That did give him hope, but not enough.  _ Where was Byakuya? _

If he weren’t so stupid, Byakuya wouldn’t have left, and he wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. Where is he, what is he thinking about right now? Makoto could feel tears in his eyes, upon the thought that Byakuya will come home and find this mess. But… He won’t stop until he finds him. Even if this lovely lady would take him to the other side of the planet.

He apparently made her angrier by how he tore out her hair because now his throat was  _ burning _ from pain, and all he could do before slipping into the darkness was to hoarsely whisper his fiance’s name.


	2. Let the shadows fall behind you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byakuya finds the trashed apartment
> 
> Makoto finds out more about his upcoming fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have determined the posting schedule for both my currently ongoing fanfics, hopefully, I will be able to keep up. Lmao. Enjoy the second chapter of this one, beautiful people <3

Byakuya pressed Kirigiri’s bell. It doesn’t take long for her to reply, she was probably up late working (as she usually was).

“Good evening, who is it?” she asked through the intercom.

“Guess.”

“Togami. To what do I owe the pleasure? Do you need some papers?”

“Not really. Just come down with the cigs.”

“Fine.”

There was a silence, and Byakuya lit another cigarette as he waited. Kirigiri arrived, still dressed in her FF uniform, forgoing the jacket and having her hair tied up in a messy bun. The exhaustion on her face from the day of work was prominent, but she had a box in her hand, just as he instructed.

“So, what happened?” she asked and leaned against the building near him.

“I was on the phone with Komaru the whole day. The Towa is a mess again,” he figured he could start lightly. Her eyebrows shot up, and her eyes bore into him. He hoped she wasn’t able to see his probably still red and stinging cheek in the dark. 

“That doesn’t really explain why you are here right now. Well, except for that slap mark on your face.”

He could hear a smile in her voice, and he tsked, annoyed.

“We had a screaming contest with Makoto, and I needed to calm down.”

“I figured that much. But you probably didn’t tell him about Towa, am I correct?”

He shook his head. “Of course not. That would upset him in a whole different way.”

“Either way, I wouldn’t expect him to slap you.”

“I can’t wait to hear his explanation too,” he sighed, the trail of smoke escaping his lips. “He told me that I don’t talk to him. Which is ridiculous, because I was just doing that. He came home frustrated and angry, and I might have handled it poorly.”

“Well, you talked to him how? Because in some cases, saying hello and asking him about his day isn’t enough. Was he angry at you, or just in general?”

Now that was one hell of a question. “I suppose a bit of both, but the things I have said seemed to anger him more. I didn’t do the things he asked me to, and he got into trouble during the day because of it. It wasn’t even my fault, since I have spent the day aiding his sister. But I couldn’t just tell him that,” he made a sour face, as he realized how ridiculous all of that sounded. “I fucked up a little bit, haven’t I?”

Kirigiri seemed shocked. Probably because of him admitting something like that in front of her.  _ Oh, come on. _

“That is a very morally grey area. Maybe if you told him, he wouldn’t lash out at you violently, but using that as a distraction from the first issue seems manipulative. The best thing you both can do is talk it out in a calm manner. But I think you know that already.”

He nodded, throwing the cigarette butt into the street. “He hopefully isn’t angry anymore. I know I am not. The reaction was a little bit… uncalled for. But it’s Makoto. Knowing him, he would apologize the first thing after I enter the apartment.” He just hoped Makoto didn’t do anything stupid, like going out to look for him. He’s been gone for what, 20 minutes? Kirigiri’s apartment wasn’t that far, but he walked slowly, trying to cool down and think. About halfway there, he had realized he also forgot to bring his phone with him.

Kirigiri smirked. “That does sound correct. You two have been together for years, a miscommunication like this isn’t enough to make a lasting scar.”

Byakuya smirked. “Thanks, Kirigiri.” It was easier now, to thank people casually. Makoto did some serious work on him throughout the years. She smirked back, probably knowing exactly what he was thinking about.

“You’re welcome. Now,” she stepped on the hissing cigarette and picked it up, placing it back into the box. “If you excuse me, I have some more work to do.”

“Of course you do. You always do. Have you ever stopped working?”

“You are the one to talk.”

“Tsk. Fine. I’ll text you to let you know how it went. We could have lunch together. Makoto could use some distracting from his sister’s ridiculous adventure. He worries too much.”

“That sounds good.”

Byakuya left the area with a small smile. Kirigiri always sobered him up with her words, in a weirdly cold empathetic way. Maybe Makoto’s influence on her was just as strong on her as it was on Byakuya. But that’s just what their Luckster did, influencing people to be their best selves. 

He rehearsed a little in his head, what he would say to Makoto. He even worked a word “sorry” in there, which was a rarity even now for him. But he realized, the sooner he could get Makoto to let go of the petty fight, the sooner they could just curl up on a couch and cuddle. Only thinking about that made Byakuya’s shoulders lose some of their tension. He was still avoiding physical contact with most people, but Makoto eased him into the concept over the years, and Byakuya eventually found out he enjoyed it. 

As he neared his apartment, he noticed the unfamiliar black SUV driving off. He narrowed his eyebrows and squinted, but the plate number was also unfamiliar. In the post-apocalyptic world, one needed to be careful, but it wasn’t exactly uncommon, to see a  _ car _ around here, so he quickly let go of the thought.

However, the dread he felt when he saw their front door wide open with the lights in the corridor still on, managed to choke the air out of him. He bolted up the stairs, rushing through the door. He called Makoto’s name, but the rest of the question quickly died on his lips. The askew table, shattered glass all over the floor, and the deep red liquid… So much of it. His blood ran ice cold in his veins, and he sagged against the wall, his legs losing their strength. He desperately looked around, expecting to find a body, and trying to ignore the awfully familiar bear laughing in his ears. He had to calm down. He was pretty sure he was hyperventilating. But… He didn’t see a body anywhere. That was good. No, that was horrible, but there was some good in that. It was a shard of hope.

There was one thing he could do right now, and as soon as he realized it, he bolted for the kitchen, carefully avoiding the glass and blood. He grabbed his phone, trying to ignore how much his hands were shaking, and he dialed the number of the person he was just a few minutes before with.

“I need you to come here. Right. Fucking. Now,” he barked into the phone and ended the call before Kirigiri could ask any questions. His breathing was way too chaotic to answer any of them anyway. He grabbed the edge of a kitchen table.  _ Calm down. Calm the fuck down.  _ His hands were shaking so bad the whole table was shaking.  _ Fuck. This isn’t good. This is so, SO bad. You need a clear mind. _

He followed his muscle memory to the fridge and took a bottle. Few gulps of the bitter liquid down his throat and the fog in his mind cleared. Now, that was much better. Now, the breathing. He started small, just taking shallow inhales and exhales until his throat wasn’t squeezed by anxiety and shock anymore.

As soon as he finally heard knocking, he walked to the door, fairly calm now. He managed to turn off the playing TV (as soon as he noticed the noise from it, it was driving him crazy), regulate his breathing, and take a few more gulps from the bottle.  _ Performing under pressure? Anytime. _

He opened the door and smiled down at Kirigiri, who had an appropriately confused and concerned expression on her face. “Here we fucking go, Kirigiri. Our Personal Hell,” he gestured behind him with a cold smile. She probably would be able to tell that he was drinking, but probably wouldn’t be too surprised.

She didn’t respond, entered the apartment, and took in the mess in the living room. She crouched next to the spill, and Byakuya just silently let her work, leaning against the wall. “I need you to sit down, calm down, stop drinking, and tell me what you know,” she spoke after a while and stood up again, walking across the room with careful and slow steps.

Byakuya sighed. Surgically cold, as usual. But that was indeed the best approach right now. He sat down and propped his forehead with his hand. His migraine was in full blow again. He needed to tune out the emotions. He used to be so good at that before he fell in love with Makoto. Right now, that bit him in the ass in the worst way possible. But he couldn’t give up. He called Kirigiri for a reason, so it was best to just do what she told him to.

“It’s not much I’m afraid. I came home and saw the front door wide open. Lights and TV were still on. All the glass and blood were already there, and I didn’t touch any of it. The doors weren’t damaged, so it wasn’t a violent entrance. Whoever the attacker was, Makoto must have let them in. Or…”

“Or it wasn’t locked,” Kirigiri supplied, looking at him from across the room. “Did you lock the door as you left?”

Byakuya’s blood ran cold again. He groaned and buried his face in his palms.

Kirigiri didn’t seem to mind his shame and guilt, because she continued. “There seem to be signs of struggle. Since there isn’t a body or much blood, it seems to be kidnapping.”

Byakuya’s head whipped up. “Much blood, are you kidding?”

“Almost all of it is wine.”

Byakuya’s shoulders sagged. His breathing was suddenly easier. Wine. Now that was ridiculous, how could he just not see that? He chuckled dryly. “Great. But there is some blood, you say?”

Kirigiri pointed to the table. There was a little red smudge on the edge. “I’m guessing someone, likely Makoto, slammed his head there. Also, I found this,” she announced and picked something from under the couch. Byakuya leaned in to see the small thing better, but he quickly recoiled back when he realized it’s  _ a whole strand of blonde hair.  _ “Makoto likely ripped it right out of the attacker's head during the struggle. There is a bit of blood near the roots. Unless you rip out your hair in your spare time, this is evidence.”

“I definitely don’t. Also, we clean the floors almost daily.”

“That’s good. Aside from that, the time frame is very narrow. Did you notice some car on your way in, perhaps?”

Byakuya winced a little when he realized he, in fact,  _ had. _ “There was one. It was just passing by our building, so I didn’t think much of it. I didn’t recognize the number on the plate, but I definitely don’t remember how it went. I just skimmed it. It wasn’t a Foundation’s car either. A black SUV.”

“Do you have any idea who would like to kidnap Makoto?”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Are you kidding? He is a man who killed Enoshima. Some people do come to mind.”

“That is correct, but the Remnants aren’t really a thing for a long time now. The powerful ones, at least. We would have to look into this in the Foundation. How about  _ your  _ enemies?”

“There always was a lot of them to my name, but I figured all of them were dead or far too preoccupied to pay any mind to me. I don’t really keep a list. What am I, a cartoon villain?” Byakuya said, feeling the bone-deep exhaustion settling on his shoulders. Just when he thought he was done with all this bullshit.

“Therefore, we have two groups of suspects to look into. We can put the hair into the DNA lab for some clues. The fact he was kidnapped gives us few advantages. For one, he is alive, and they need him alive. They didn’t leave any sort of note here, which means they will likely send a request for ransom later. We can trace them that way if the DNA identification doesn’t prove useful. Until then, we have time to close in on them,” she spoke, still in that calm tone. She walked across the room, laying a hand on his shoulder. 

“C’mon, if you break down now, Makoto could end up dead. Pull yourself together and think. We need to go over the list of suspects as soon as possible. Foundation has lists of all the people alive because of the supplying, so we should be able to find our culprit.”

Byakuya couldn’t shake the bad feeling. Going over the list would be a lengthy task, way too long. He had a hard time focusing, but he had the feeling if he took out the bottle again, Kirigiri would smack him with it. He just sighed, his eyes empty.

“I think we are done here. Let’s go to the Foundation. But… I’m going to drive,” she told him, the last part with a small smile. She was clearly trying to cheer him up. He huffed out another sigh, not really having the strength to smile back. 

“Fine. Just let me change my clothes. I think I spilled some whiskey on this shirt and I wouldn’t be caught dead in Foundation this unpresentable, no matter how shitty a situation I have to deal with.”

He wasn’t waiting for her to answer, got up, and walked past the mess into their bedroom. He saves a reminder for later in his mind, to clean up the glass and wine when he has a chance. Or even better, get someone else to do it. Not Makoto though. He’s not going to have Makoto lift a finger for weeks after this is all over and he gets him back. He was going to get him back. That wasn’t up for any discussion.

He changed into a clean shirt and pants, and while he combed through his hair with his fingers and tied it in the back with a band, his eyes landed on one of Makoto’s bigger cuddle hoodies thrown on their bed. He hesitated only for a second before putting it on. It was going to be a long, cold night, so why wouldn’t he? He definitely wasn’t doing such a silly thing just to feel comfortable. Definitely not.

He walked back. Kirigiri didn’t comment on his attire, as he handed her the car keys without a word. They locked up the apartment and were on their way.

\---

As Makoto came to, the first thing on his mind was Byakuya. He couldn’t even imagine what would happen if Byakuya was there too. Would he also end up in this terrible situation? Would they make it? Makoto didn’t know, and his brain hurt.

Wait… What exactly has happened to him?

Everything was dark and blurry, and he couldn’t move properly. His whole body was in pain, and breath was rasping in his throat. He could feel his arms tied up behind his back, the bite of the ropes on his wrists. Nausea was rising in his stomach, as the space around him vibrated in a strange way. Was he… in the trunk of the car? He tried to open his eyes more, to make out more of his surroundings, but the pain in his head protested. He let out a loud whine and closed his eyes again, trying to relax his sore body. He remembered the fight with Byakuya, then the fight with the woman, how she choked him… And then nothing. 

Oh, god. He needed to get out. He needed to see Byakuya again, and apologize. He couldn’t believe the last thing that he said to him and did to him, were such horrible things. Over a dirty coffee machine. Holy shit.

The car suddenly jerked, and he hit his head on the trunk door as he slid backward in the trunk. He whined again. Did his first noise alert the woman? He was so confused. And in pain. 

He could hear noises from the outside, and then the trunk suddenly opened. The dim light from the streetlamp was too much for Makoto’s eyes, and he gasped. Womans’ shadow towered above him, but he couldn’t make out anything of her face again. 

“Shut up, and don’t worry. Take a nap or something. You will need it,” she said coldly, and then there were gloved fingers gripping his jaw. He tried to jerk his head away but to no avail. She slapped a piece of duct tape over his mouth. “Better,” she commented and shut the trunk again, plunging Makoto into hopeless darkness. Now, even his whines were muffled. But instead of taking a nap as she instructed, he tried to get his brain to work. He needed to get out of this mess somehow. There wasn’t much he could do, he was injured, and she was taking him god knows where. He wanted to scream, but he probably should think of that before she slapped the tape over his mouth. Well. He breathed hard and suppressed the tears with a few blinks. Possibly the only thing he could do, was just like before (not that it worked too well), to stall. Get information. He could annoy her into giving him something. Later, when she would, inevitably, take him out of the car.

Not too long after (or maybe it was a long time, but Makoto has lost track of it completely), the trunk door opened again, and she grabbed his shoulder. He protested with a whine, as she hoisted him up and forced him to stand up. His head was spinning, and nausea hit him in full force. She must have noticed his green-ish face, because she grabbed his hair and his waist, successfully supporting his weight.

“If you vomit on me, you won’t like what will come next,” he heard her voice, threatening him. Well, he already didn’t like his situation.  _ You will have to try harder, lady. _

She dragged him inside a house the car was parked near. Makoto was able to notice the enclosed fence around the building, as the car was parking on the inside of it. Inside of the house, the light was dimmed, and he was able to make out only a few bare pieces of furniture and mountains of papers before she pushed him into the chair in the middle of the room. The most noticeable thing in the room, however, was the weird, massive metal door with a latch and a huge handle. The chills ran down his spine. There was no denying it, he was scared, he was very scared, but he had to resist the woman. She left his side for a moment, to lock the door they came through. He ducks under her hand as she comes back and tries to grab him. 

She chuckled, the sound turning Makoto’s blood into ice. The hood was finally down, and Makoto could see her blonde hair in a bun, with the little bloody patch near her hairline. That was likely from the hair he ripped out. There were red welts from his nails all over her neck and jaw. The facemask was still covering her nose and mouth, but her eyes were visible - she was looking at him coldly, her eyes sharp and of the strange, grey-blue-ish color. A...familiar color.

“Listen here. You don’t have to make this harder for yourself. You have two options, you calm down and stop resisting, let me bandage your head, and I might even let you get some sleep before the main event. Or I can put you to sleep with drugs, and you will wake up with the worst hangover of your life. So, what do you think?” she asked him, sneering down at him even through her eyes only.

Makoto returned her the cold gaze, although he probably wasn’t very convincing, considering his poor condition. His breaths were sharp with pain that was still racking his whole body. He didn’t feel like calming down. He had no idea what was she planning to do with him, but he didn’t think she was going to torture him or something like that. If she were, she wouldn’t want to bandage his head. She clearly needed Makoto alive for as long as he could manage, and that was his advantage. He could see just how serious she was about that and then exploit it. He just needed to sit tight. Byakuya will come for him. Eventually. Right?

When she tried to touch him again, he jerked his head away, letting her know he wasn’t about to comply. Her eyes narrowed. “Fine by me,” she uttered, and then she grabbed a syringe from the table. Makoto tried to jerk away, but she succeeded in grabbing him by his bruised neck. He yelped as the needle pricked him near his throat. She then let go of him and surprised him by taking off the tape and letting him fall down from the chair to the floor. He could already feel his vision swimming, but he pulled at his ropes. By the sharp pain in his wrist, he was pretty sure he was bleeding there too.

She looked like she was paying him no mind, rummaging in one of the drawers of the table, taking out the medical supplies. He mustered up the rest of his strength, and pushed through his teeth: “You have no idea who you’re playing with.” Yeah, he could be sassy enough if he wanted. It will definitely annoy her. And with that, he blacked out.

He was probably out for a long time (again, he had no way of knowing), but the first thing he knew as he slowly came to, was just how  _ cold _ he was. The sharp white light was biting at his poor eyes, and he let out a small pained groan as he tried to move, finding his arms free. He breathed slowly, not letting the suspiciously cold air bother him yet. There were bandages on his wrists, and as he felt with his fingers around his forehead, his head got a bandage too. Speaking of his head, it was hurting like  _ hell.  _ He felt sick and forced himself to breathe through his nose, so he wouldn’t open his mouth. As he sat up, something slipped down from his shoulders. Huh. A thin blanket.

Then, it was time to actually pay attention to where the fuck he was. He slowly opened his eyes, letting them adjust to the sharp light. And then, they widened.

There were multiple metal bare shelves around him. The ceiling, the floor, and the walls were all white. And to his right were the very same metal-plated doors he could see before.  _ The other side of them. _

_ He was in a fucking freezer. _

He didn’t feel brave enough to stand up yet, his stomach would hate that, so he just shuffled to the doors on his knees, like a wounded animal, and hit it weakly a few times with his fists. “Hey! Let me out!” he yells, his voice hoarse and weak. His throat hurt, likely from the choking it had to go through, but the cold air was easing the pain a little bit. One shard of hope in a hopeless situation.

His only answer was a shrill beep that hurt his ears and startled him. He looked up, and saw a screen of a thermometer, announcing the temperature in the freezer. With another beep, it went down one degree. 8°C. That was… terrifying.

Makoto banged his fists on the door again, desperation and panic slowly making his breathing harder and harder. “Please let me out! I- I will do what you want!” Soon, he couldn’t breathe, having to stop moving to calm down a little bit. He pulled the blanket closer to him, snuggling into it and sitting down next to the door. He watched the cold mist curl in the sharp light until his eyes drooped with exhaustion again. He wondered if she could see him… Somewhere in between the ceiling fans, there was probably a camera.

How fucked up was that… Makoto drifted to an uneasy sleep again, trying to keep the most of his remaining warmth inside the blanket.


	3. The River Of Tears Has Washed Me Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byakuya and Kyoko investigate
> 
> Temperature lowers around Makoto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so bored today I actually started studying, and if that doesn't say how shitty I am doing, nothing could
> 
> But I like this chapter, and hopefully, you guys will too :3
> 
> (I would love to hear your theories about who the culprit is - if you want to share :3)

The search was tiring. Byakuya’s migraine didn’t show any signs of letting him off the hook any time soon, and looking at the profile of every single blonde person he could find within the huge Remnants of Despair database was exhausting. Kirigiri commented that the hair didn’t seem to be bleached or dyed, so the person was naturally blonde. They found out that the main lab was empty during the night, so their options were to: A. Wait till the morning, or B. Find someone among the night staff that could operate the lab. Kirigiri was currently working on the B option, while he searched. So much for the team effort.

Fortunately for him, the server floor was vacant as well, so if he lost his nerve from time to time, there was no one to witness it. Just like he was now, slumped across the keyboard, trying to get his aching shoulders to relax. His eyes were hurting too, and he put his glasses up into his hairline to give them a little rest.

As he should probably expect, Kirigiri was able to sneak up on him even in his stressed out and on the high alert state, as the sudden touch of a gloved hand on his shoulder startled him.

“It’s me,” she said, quite redundantly, and Byakuya sagged down again. 

“How is the search going?”

“The same question to you. But no, there apparently isn’t anyone in the night staff that could help us. We have to wait till the morning. But the cleaning lady on the lab floor told me they usually are able to fulfill requests fast, so it’s not much of a setback.”

“Well, damn. Nothing from me. Everyone is either dead, on the other side of the Earth, or in jail. Unless it was someone who is, perhaps, a third generation of the Remnants and up until now was so insignificant the Foundation didn’t even know they existed, I’m afraid this is a dead end,” he reported and showed her the paper with 50 names he put together, all crossed out from the list. She flew her eyes over it and curtly nodded.

“Plausible theory. Based on what we know, they are possibly working alone, because if it was coming from some group, the Foundation would have a note about them somewhere. But I’ve been thinking, hasn’t there been some suspicious mail recently?”

Byakuya knitted his eyebrows together. He didn’t think so, no. He told Kirigiri as much. She put her fingers to her chin, entering her thinking mode.

“The lack of note is concerning me. The action doesn’t seem logical. They have taken him alive, and even if it was just to kill him somewhere else, even Remnants are far from behaving so illogically. They kidnapped him with a goal in mind, and their next step should be letting us know that. Maybe there was something that we missed in the apartment. Or…”

Byakuya quickly caught up. “Maybe they sent it somewhere else.” He took his phone out of his pocket and called the FF mail department. A very tired night worker picked up, and after a few quick and efficient instructions, Byakuya hung up. “He said he will prepare all of Makoto’s unforwarded mail in an hour. Way too long, if you ask me, but he said they have an influx in the system because of the Towa flood. A ridiculous excuse.”

Kirigiri smirked. “Well, let’s get on with the search now.”

\---

There wasn’t much Makoto could do in the freezer, except desperately trying to keep warm under the blanket. It actually seemed to help - in the cocoon he’s created for himself, the warmth from his skin was collecting, and not dispersing upon the direct contact with the cold air. Why the lady did such a weird thing, to cram him in a freezer, but with a blanket - that was a mystery for him. Maybe it was just a bad omen, that this was the first stage of the elaborate “Makoto Ice Lolly” plan. 

His thoughts were mushed like a pot of mashed potatoes. He started shivering not long ago but knew better than trying to suppress it. His strength was rapidly decreasing, his breath shallow. His lungs didn’t want to inhale the cold air anymore. But they had to, there was no other air. That was funny. Makoto chuckled silently and then hummed confusedly. Why was he laughing at that? That was stupid. His concussion was likely worse than he thought it was at first.

The loud noise of the hatch opening was what woke him up from his next half-slumber, and he startled, trying to straighten up his body and protect himself. His laughable attempt was very quickly dispersed by the woman, who grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him across the room on the ground. Makoto’s head avoided hitting the metal shelf by only a few inches. He grunted and got up on his knees, hugging himself unconsciously. The sudden movement made his head spin a little, and the blanket flew away from his grasp.

“Hello. You almost made it through the night. Therefore, breakfast time,” she said and set some things on the nearest metal shelf. She turned to leave, but Makoto couldn’t let her. Not without...something. Anything.  _ God, his brain was so slow. _

“Wait! Please!” he called, and thankfully, she stopped and looked at him with lifted eyebrows. The facemask was missing now, and he could clearly see the sharp features of her face, the long narrow nose, and slightly-colored thin lips.

“I- I don’t understand. If you want anything from me, why don’t you tell me already? I am sure we can… work something out,” that sounded very stupid since he had no desire to negotiate with the woman who almost choked him to the death, but he had to try. 

She chuckled, closing her eyes. An unspeakable chill ran through Makoto’s spine. 

“I don’t actually want anything from you. I just need you to stay put. But don’t worry Naegi, everything will be resolved. One way or the other,” she said curtly. Makoto sagged, disappointed. So she wasn’t willing to give him anything. Fine then, he could play this game. 

“It’s Naegi-Togami,” he said quietly, just as a little sass for himself, to keep his mood up. Thinking about Byakuya always did the trick.

However, she stood frozen, staring at him as if he just said that the sun was setting in the east. She gritted her teeth, and Makoto recoiled in panic as she moved towards him, a murder in her eyes. She struck him across the face with the force that threw Makoto against the ground, and he whimpered in fear.

The hand in his hair pulled him back up, his face stinging. Her eyes were absolutely unforgiving. “That’s not happening, peasant. Over my dead body,” she growled in his face, and let him go. Makoto curled on the ground, in case she wanted to kick him, but she took her leave and slammed the heavy door behind her.

Makoto blinked, confused. Why did that make her so angry? So she was planning on killing him eventually? And the fact that he still had hope of getting married was so jarring to her? No, that sounded way too dramatic. Or not?

He slowly got up to get his blanket, ignoring the stinging in his face, and the flash of color caught his eye.  _ Oh, she left him food.  _ Upon inspection, he found out his breakfast consisted of a bowl of plain rice, and a mug of tea.  _ Both were warm.  _

Makoto didn’t realize how hungry he was until he started to shovel the warm rice into his mouth with a plastic spoon. The last time he ate was probably almost 24 hours ago - in the busy day at the shop he wasn’t able to eat much, and he definitely didn’t make it to the dinner like he was promising himself the whole day. The rice and tea did wonder to him, his head spinning less, and his breathing easier.

He tried to savor the tea more, clutching the warm mug in between his hands, snuggling into the blanket again, but its temperature was slowly dropping. 

The shrill beep announcing the change of temperature also didn’t help. Two, three… Three of them. He looked up. 5°C. Absolutely great.

Something told him he should be much more careful about his mouth around her.

\---

The amount of fanmail Makoto was getting was absolutely, utterly ridiculous. 

And this was years after he defeated Enoshima on national television. Did people, like, have recordings of that? And rewatched them annually as the family tradition? That thought was a little bit sickening. To think that someone possibly owned a tape of him and Makoto-

No, scratch that. Enoshima wouldn't…

Of fucking course she would. Was the frustrated sex between two participants of a killing game hope-inducing or despair-inducing thing?

Byakuya's brain hurt.

“I can't believe they were just keeping these boxes around. Without any regard for recording their contents. How are we supposed to find anything in this mess?”

Kirigiri only looked at him with obvious  _ shut up about that already _ in her face and resumed opening the envelopes. Byakuya tsked and also resumed digging through his second box.

While the children's drawings of Makoto as a flower fairy or the God of the Sun were cute, there were only so many of them Byakuya could take before he broke down.

He pulled out the next envelope, and routinely checked the date. It caught his eye. “This one came last week,” he announced and began to open the envelope. Kirigiri stopped digging through her own box and leaned in to see. Byakuya took out the letter and handed the envelope to her. As he unfolded it, he winced.

“This is probably our thing,” he said dryly, as he threw the paper on the table, his face disgusted. The letter was written with a red pen, and in the sharp katakana letters, as if copied straight out of the dictionary. Aside from anticipated threats of violence and death, there was one thing that stood up to Byakuya - his own name. He was included in the threats.

_ “I am going to tear you away from Byakuya Togami and watch him break down as I make you bleed out,”  _ Kirigiri read aloud with a dry voice, clearly thinking the same thing.

“This attack wasn't directed only at Makoto. The culprit clearly counts me into the picture," Byakuya said bitterly, and Kirigiri nodded.

"Indeed. There is no sender address on the envelope, so it can't be traced back to the source, but that also means the culprit used the anonymous mailbox of the headquarters."

Byakuya frowned. "How can you know that? Anonymous mailboxes are literally all over the world."

"Yes, but this box states it clearly," she pointed to the box Byakuya pulled the letter from. Written in a black marker, it said: MAIN HQ.

"Oh," Byakuya hummed. "So the boxes had some purpose after all."

Kirigiri looked at him with a notable concern. "I haven't asked you for a while, how are you holding up? You seem to be distracted."

"Literally, no shit, Kirigiri. I know it's stupid and wimpy, but I am worrying, and-"

"It's not either of those things. You just have to talk to me. If you need a break…"

"You know very well why I can't stop. Let's just get back to the letter," Byakuya let out a frustrated sigh and grabbed the letter to read it again. Kirigiri wasn't affected by his outburst, but her lingering concerned glance didn't escape Byakuya's attention.

"I would say it was written by somebody who doesn't have Japanese as their maternity language. The grammar is a bit awry, and the writing is just awful. They didn't use any kanji. They likely speak the language, maybe well enough, but never bothered to learn much writing," he said slowly, Kirigiri nodded and pointed to the signature.

"This also doesn't add up."

Byakuya read the word.  _ "Remnants?" _

"Yes. They specifically used the plural. While from their actions, it is more likely that they work alone. Also, throughout the letter, the singular and the pronoun 'I' are used. That is strange."

"So, what does your genius brain deduce from this?"

"To put it shortly, it is a falsification. The person behind this isn't a Remnant. They did this to put us on the wrong track. Perhaps to buy themselves time, while we chase our own tail."

"But they surely are aware of mine and your analytical skills, if they are so familiar with us," Byakuya objected.

"Then, it's a joke."

"Tsk. How foolish," Byakuya threw the letter back on the table, disgusted all over again. Kirigiri had the audacity to smirk.

"We are likely dealing with a person with very high intelligence. That is obvious from the letter. The important clues found in this are - one, it's not a Remnant. Two, they likely operate in this very city. Three, they have their plan built around you too, which means Makoto isn't the only target, or possibly, isn't the main target at all. They did it to get to you. Four, the writing style and faulty language might be parts of the joke, but maybe it's not. We can look into people who aren't inherently Japanese."

"Five, we were meant to find this right here and now. And six, they want us to find them."

Kyoko lifted her eyebrows. She must have seen the determination in his face because she closed her eyes after a while and nodded. 

"Considering that they sent the letter into the Foundation, and not to your home, yes. I have to agree. The letter might be addressed to Makoto, but it was not meant for him to read, nor find. Ultimately…" she stopped, a bit hesitant. Byakuya knew what she meant. His gut was tangling itself upon the thought.

"This is a trap for me."

\---

Makoto somehow, in his subconsciousness, knew that he shouldn't sleep. The light jumpy sleep might turn into a deep coma in the hypothermic state, and he might not wake up from that. And he was pretty sure he was close to a hypothermic state, with how badly he has been shivering for the last… Who was he kidding? He had absolutely no idea how much time had passed. And he was no doctor. This situation wasn't something the field medicine voluntary courses in FF could prepare him for.

And yet, he couldn't keep his eyes from closing up right after he jerked awake, terrified of sleeping. The endless whiteness of the freezer was the least stimulating thing he could imagine, and the cold mercilessly biting into his body every time he shifted in his blanket was draining the strength from him at an alarming speed. He gave up any attempts to move - it would only make him weaker sooner, and if he couldn't get past the huge metal door when he first woke up he definitely wouldn't be able to do so now. The bliss that the “breakfast” she fed him brought him was long gone. Inevitably, he fell asleep and started to dream.

He knew this nightmare by heart. Ever since he watched Enoshima's suicide video during the Future Foundation killing game, it was coming back to him at least once a week. He considered himself better off - most of the people who have seen it  _ killed themselves _ , after all. His unwavering hope (and Sakakura's intervention) saved him from death at the time, and if all he had to do instead was to endure a few nightmares, he gladly accepted that outcome. And even though Byakuya had definitely noticed his nightmares, he had never asked about details, and Makoto never told him more.

The space around him wasn't very detailed. Sometimes, it bothered to look like the gym at Hope's Peak, the very gym where Monokuma first made his appearance and where so many more things happened. Sometimes, it was just a dark space. This time, it was the latter, but that didn't calm Makoto. That only meant the...other elements would be more detailed.

He knew what he had to do. He walked forward, trying to calm his shaky breaths. He didn't have to wait long, because there she was, by his right side, gently hugging his shoulder as if they were a married couple, walking with him. He could feel the blood from her clothes sipping into his sleeve, and it was cold, incredibly so. She leaned in when he didn't look at her face, her cold lips brushing his ear. “Say, Makoto… Why don't you join us?”

He pressed his lips together and looked her in the face, her blue eyes lifeless, but her bloodied lips stretched out in a smile. Makoto suppressed a shudder. 

“You know I can't,” he said quietly, and she blinked a few times, processing the words he told her every single time.

“But it would be so easy!” The corpse of Sayaka Maizono laughed without a care in the world, and Makoto could feel something wet rise up against his ankles. It was blood, he knew it was blood, even without looking. It was collected from everyone that just arrived.

Chihiro Fujisaki with his head bloodied, dragging power cables connected to his wrists and his neck behind him. Taka Ishimaru and Hifumi Yamada, also with their heads bloodied, and unlike Chihiro, who was smiling innocently, looking at him with completely numb faces. Sakura Oogami, with shards of brown glass in her hair, offering him a hand. The last one to arrive was Mukuro Ikusaba, her face blurry and impossible to comprehend for Makoto, but her pink wig was bloodied and askew, and she pulled one of the spears out of her body with an awful squelching sound. She wordlessly handed it to Makoto and stepped aside. The rest all stood around him, touching his clothing, speaking in voices that seemed to come from very afar.

“You know you want to, Naegi!”

“Yeah, don't be such a stifler for the rules, it's not a big deal.”

“You should listen to Maizono, she is very famous!”

“Is really all the pain worth it?”

“C'mon, Makoto. It will be okay. Come rest with us,” Sayaka's voice was always right there, in his ear. He closed his eyes, focused on his breathing. He couldn't take this. He never could. He had to move on. To the other stage.

He tore his hand out of Sayaka's grasp and started to run, leaving the victims, their lake of blood and their taunting voices calling to his very soul behind. The first few dozen times he couldn't even do that, he just stood there and let them sweet talk him into plunging the spear into his stomach. He was waking up screaming from that. Thankfully Byakuya wasn't sleeping with him back then. Or maybe, Makoto would have welcomed that. He didn't know.

“That was a dick move, Naegi,” another voice almost stopped him in his tracks, but he continued his dash. Therefore, Leon Kuwata's body with his blotched, purple skin and torn-up clothing only blinked in the corner of his vision. He used to feel bad, but now he couldn't find even the strength to.

“Yeah, what are you, a coward?” Mondo Oowada was the one to mock him next, his body in a similar state to Kuwata's. He did something he always did - he tripped Makoto during his run, and Makoto rolled onto the black ground, his legs aching. He gasped, and the cloud of bitter smoke went down his throat. He coughed, his lungs burning with familiar pain, as she twirled around him, her laced skirt charred and swirling said smoke in the air. 

“Wouldn't it be wonderful, Naegi? You could be at peace now,” Celestia Ludenberg purred, as she reached down and took his chin, her silver claw digging painfully into his skin. “If only you haven't sentenced us to the death.”

Makoto gritted his teeth, hearing himself say the answer that way the key to the next part. “You sentenced yourselves to the death. At the moment you decided to kill someone.”

Ludenberg smirked and disappeared in a gush of black smoke, as did Oowada and Kuwata. Makoto got up on his feet and continued. It took him way too many tries here, just bursting into tears in Ludenberg's grasp until his clothes caught on fire and boys started to kick him further into the ground. Up until now, it was all bearable, with the ongoing years he had to conquer them. All of those, who were haunting his mind, ever since he found their dead bodies or witnessed their demises.

The next part was much harder for Makoto to breathe through.

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback appreciated <3
> 
> (Yes, I am a cartoon villain at heart. Or, more likely, a Danganronpa antagonist)


End file.
